


Women!

by DixieDale



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Women?  Hogan can handle them, control them.  He's the acknowledged expert.  You put Hogan together with one woman - sparks.  Two women - fireworks.  But SIX women, (well, five women and one spoiled teenager of the female variety), plus four of Hogan's crew, and even Hogan might find he has a limit to how much control is really possible.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 2





	Women!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HH Short Story Speedwriting Challenge.

A quiet hotel, catering to travelers and a few who had business in the town - not one where you would have expected such a turmoil as would soon be taking place there. There wasn't usually much activity at all, other than a few guests, mostly repeat visitors. Well, except for the reception to take place later than evening - a birthday celebration for Lizabeth, the spoiled oldest daughter of the mayor. Lizabeth was poking her nose into everything, squabbling with the help, hectoring him. She wanted everything perfect, insisted it be so, to the point of expecting him to now banish four guests. 

"I don't want them here. I just know they are going to butt in, try to pretend they are guests at my party. I want them gone! Those two old women, they'll sniff and complain and point their fingers. I know their type!"

The fact that the other two guests were very attractive young women hadn't helped. Lizabeth wanted all male eyes on HER tonight. After all, one didn't turn seventeen every day!

He had put her off, explaining how, as a hotelier, he couldn't simply throw out paying guests, especially regular ones, rolling his eyes as she flounced off to carry tales to her father once again. He knew he could expect a call soon. He had known the family since childhood, and Lizabeth was about as charming as the rest of them!

That call hadn't come. Instead, three hours later, the manager watched helplessly as the uniformed men pushed, pulled and otherwise manhandled the four women guests, plus the girl who worked at the bakery sometimes and was at the hotel only to deliver a basket of fresh rolls. He'd tried to intercede, but had been roughly shoved aside, even when he tried to stammer out who Frau Linkmeyer was, who her brother was. He didn't understand why, among all the other screeching she was doing, she hadn't already made that point loud and clear! But she hadn't; in fact, during his own protests she had even glared at him and told him to "be quiet, you fool! I do not need you or anyone else to defend me! I have done nothing to warrant this outrage, and I doubt these other women have either!!!"

Well, of course, they had done plenty, each of them - had for some time, would continue to do so for as long as they could. All were connected in some way to the Underground or other activity fighting the monster in Berlin. However, the uniformed men hadn't made any accusations, none at all, which seemed very odd. Were they doing a general roundup of women? And if so, why were THEY selected but none of the female staff, nor the young woman standing in the shadows of the hallway. They had been so careful not to be connected to each other in any obvious manner. It would have been a fatal mistake to have that connection become open knowledge.

Tiger was Underground, plain and simple. Drusilla was as well, though also working in the bakery sometimes, which was both a source of local gossip and an ideal place to pass on some of her own. Frau Linkmeyer, sister to General Albert Burkhalter, was their leader, if you could say they had one, this little group of theirs. She obtained much valuable information from her brother and his associates, quickly passing it along to one of the others, knowing it would get to the right ears. Hilda was secretary to the Kommandant at Stalag 13, the place from which Colonel Robert Hogan and his men staged their own efforts. And the regal old lady in the tattered fur coat? None other than the White Russian, Marya, in one of her many guises. 

Any one of them, were their activities to become common knowledge, would be, at best, placed in front of a firing squad. But did someone know? WHY were they being dragged away? One thing Frau Linkmeyer felt for certain; she would perhaps have a better opportunity to protect the others if she was WITH them, rather than if she was left behind and they all disappeared into the countryside never to be seen again. Her position, or rather, her brother's position - that was hopefully her ace in the hole if things got totally out of control.

The manager hurried to the telephone to let General Burkhalter know of the recent events, only to be stopped by the sight of Lizabeth standing there. The malicious and well-satisfied smile on her face shocked, then terrified him when he realized what she had done. Her words confirmed his worst fear.

"Well, I suppose we don't have to worry about them crashing my party now, do we?"

And the manager went grey, thinking about the repercussions of that vindictive bit of side management.

"Come on! Tiger is waiting, we have to get moving before anything happens to her," Hogan growled. 

Yes, it had sounded urgent, that message from the Underground leader, and it was. Tiger, code name for the French woman Marie who worked with the Underground and was a frequent contact, had been taken into custody with a smattering of other women by a military unit new to the area. According to Rene, the group had been spotted, and there was an ideal spot to intercept if Hogan and his men hurried.

"Do we know who the others are, Colonel?" Newkirk asked, checking his revolver one last time. That episode at the rise had him worried a little; tumbling down a muddy embankment hadn't done him a world of good, giving him a number of cuts and bruises he'd be dealing with later, though thankfully he had managed to catch Carter before the sergeant went headlong into the river below. However, at the moment he was more concerned about what it might have done to the gun that just might be needed before the night was over. Mud and weaponry rarely mixed well.

"Besides Tiger, Rene didn't have much information. He says the hotel manager was off having hysterics. All he got was from the cook, and that one was the head of a regional sewing club, if you can believe that. Plus a couple of casual travelers, not connected as far as we know, headed who knows where, and one kid dropping off an order from the bakery. It looks like they took every female in the hotel, other than staff and the mayor's daughter, but no one knows why!" 

Hogan was more than frustrated. It hadn't been a good time for a mission, not with the Gestapo on the prowl, but he could hardly leave Tiger in enemy hands. Not only was she a valuable operative in her own right, she had other shining attributes that he liked to make use of whenever possible. He would really hate to lose her!

Hogan took a good look at the women lined up on the rise over the riverbank, their hands bound behind them. This was not good; he'd been hoping they would all be strangers, well, except for Tiger, of course. They couldn't afford to be recognized. No such luck.

Tiger, well, there was no problem there. Hilda? What the hell was Klink's secretary doing down there? But the others? Damn, there was that Drusilla kid! He shuddered at his memories of her, what she had cost him. There was an aristocratic, if elderly, grande dame in a worn but at one time elegant fur coat. And there, at the end . . . 

"Damn! That's Burkhalter's sister! How the hell . . . Are they NUTS?? What are they thinking? Burkhalter will have them skinned alive! Or worse, he'll let her take care of the matter herself; I imagine she could do the job with her voice alone!"

"So, how are we gonna do this, Colonel?" Olsen asked, readying himself nervously. Taking part in one of their missions wasn't all that usual for him - being their 'outside man' was more his accustomed role.

"You are going to distract them, Olsen. Your face is one that's seen outside sometimes, and you keep a low profile inside. Hilda and Tiger are the only ones likely to recognize you as belonging at Stalag 13, and I can handle both of them. The rest of us, we circle around behind, take out the guards, grab the women and get the hell out of here. Cover your faces with your bandanas; we can't have anyone recognizing us. And no talking, hand signals only."

"Any particular woman we're 'eading for? Can't see us piling up all dashing for the same one would 'elp matters much," Newkirk asked. Well, it was true, and as amusing as the scene might be in a comedy film, would likely end up with everyone getting shot in reality.

Hogan nodded firmly, though thinking it should have been pretty obvious without his having to spell it all out. Oh well, that's why he was the leader.

"Well, I guess we can't take Tiger and Hilda and leave the others," he said in an admittedly grudging voice. "LeBeau, you'd better grab the kid; less weight for you to deal with. As for the rest, I'll start at this end. Well, you know the old saying, 'the nearest damsel in distress comes first.' (1) The rest of you grab the one in the order you're lined up in. And that means . . ."

But now the guards were pulling the women out of line, laughing, mocking them, pushing them back toward the edge once again. But NOT in the same position as before.

Hogan looked at the changing lineup below, and his smug smile changed to an annoyed frown. Somehow that old saying wasn't nearly as pleasing as it was before, not with Frau Linkmeyer being now in the frontrunner position closest to him.

"Change of plan. Carter, you and me, we'll make our way around to the other side. When Olsen has them distracted, I'll get closer, act like I'm a local just trying to see what's going on. I'll figure it out. Maybe I know the women, or got lost or something. Once I'm up close, when you see me engage, make my move, give me ten seconds, then you rush in. Newkirk, Olsen, LeBeau, you take this side. Take out the guards, get the women to safety. Don't get fancy, no talking, no padding your part. Wait for my signal, then get with it. Move!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. Yes, of course, Hogan was going around to the other side, NOW; that was where Hilda and Tiger now were! That left him and Olsen and LeBeau to deal with Frau Linkmeyer, the old woman in the fur coat, and the kid. He wished Kinch were here to help, but it was just too risky; these women were going to get far too good a look at them as it was, even with those masks they were now wearing. And except for the old woman and the kid, all of the women had seen them before.

"Uh, shouldn't we just . . ." Carter started to ask, hanging back, going for logic in a situation where logic obviously was not Hogan's prime operating mode.

"Don't argue, Carter, just get moving!" and Hogan was gone, gun in hand, keeping low and out of sight, leaving Carter with nothing to do but give a frustrated look at his teammates and follow after.

They stayed close the ground, moving closer and closer, keeping Hogan and Carter in sight as best they could. The guards were getting rougher now, and it would seem they'd maybe had too much to drink. Well, that could work to their advantage, as long as they didn't get trigger happy. Or didn't start pushing the women into the river or worse before the men could intervene.

Hogan gave the signal, started to move forward. They were used to working with each other, and they moved in close coordination. One last quick rush and they were grappling with, then dispatching each of the guards.

Hogan hesitated only slightly, then, although Hilda was the one at the end now, changed course and grabbed Tiger, pulling her close, letting his dark eyes smile at her over the mask he'd pulled up tight when he came out of the shadows. Her eyes widened in recognition, but she said nothing.

Well, there really wasn't time to say anything. His changing his direction, going for Tiger instead of Hilda, that had put him on a collision course with Carter. Carter, who'd been directed to take the SECOND woman from the end now found his way blocked, his target snatched away. Carter, clumsy, if-it-can-happen-to-anyone Carter, tried not to run into anyone but slipped on a stone, flailed to get his balance, bumping into Hogan and Tiger, sending both of them over the edge and into the water below.

"Geeze! I didn't intend for THAT to happen," Carter exclaimed in dismay, pretty much to the world at large.

Newkirk, stunned but somehow not all that surprised, looked at LeBeau and Olsen. 

"Blimey, that was a quick ten seconds," (2) he remarked as an aside while surveying the situation, and truly the span of time between when Hogan made his move, then had his tumble had scarcely been more than that.

LeBeau's eyes were huge. "He's fallen in the water! (3) They BOTH have!"

Well, yes, that was obvious, but somehow no more believable for all that. Not so obvious, what with them being distracted, were the knowing looks exchanged by the women. Yes, they'd been recognized, each of them; no, no one was going to betray them. After all, in many respects, they were all on the same side. THEY knew that, even if the men did not.

Still, someone had to do something; Tiger's hands were tied so she couldn't swim to the bank, and Hogan seemed to be making a rough job of getting them to dry land.

"Well, don't just stand there, you fools! Get them out of there!" Frau Linkmeyer ordered in a shrill voice. And then proceeded to give them very concrete, very specific directions on just how to accomplish that.

Newkirk shook his head in amused respect. {"Sounds more like a bloody officer than 'er brother does, and smarter too; a 'ell of a lot more of each than ole Klink! Reminds me more than a bit of Old Maudie, the way she's taking charge!"}

And with a quick nod from Newkirk, they followed the woman's orders, moving quickly to the rescue, though careful with their footing on the rock-covered slope leading down to the water. 

Hogan had made some headway, if not making it all the way to shore, enough that by linking hands they were able to form a chain that almost reached the pair, Carter at the wet end. Carter grabbed for Tiger, pulled her away from Hogan's grasp, and handed her back up the line. Turning back, he reached for Hogan, but their commanding officer had lost ground, was another arm's length away from his previous position.

Olsen suggested quickly, "toss him one end of your belt, Carter. We can pull him out that way," and so it was. Carter hurried to pull off his belt, and holding it by one end, lashed it out in Hogan's direction. No luck, it was still too short.

"Missed it by that much," (4) Carter yelled. "We need something longer!"

Frau Linkmeyer pushed her way forward, undoing the heavy leather belt she wore, the very sturdy one that looped around her twice and had heavy hooks that allowed her to attach her handbag to it, sometimes her sewing bag as well, (occasionally it acted as a dog leash, sometimes as a weapon, and quite a bit more), and handed it to LeBeau to be passed down the line. She motioned the other women forward to grab hold of LeBeau, so as not to allow him to slip from his tenuous mooring as the base man at the end. 

LeBeau gave a nod of thanks, then did a double take at the old woman in the fur. His gasp of recognition was lost in the shouted order from Hogan for them to "hurry the hell up!" A warm chuckle DID reach LeBeau's ears though, and warmed him through and through. 

"Careful, my small von! I do not wish to lose you in the water," Marya whispered, and he sighed happily at the feeling of her arms surrounding him.

The two belts were now linked together, another attempt was made by Carter at tossing the life-line to Hogan. It was successful this time. Well, at least somewhat.

Unfortunately for Hogan, Carter had elected to keep hold of his own belt, Frau Linkmeyer's being at the end Hogan was reaching for. This time, when Carter did that quick overhand cast, rather like he was fly fishing, he reached his target with more accuracy than he'd really intended, striking Hogan in the head rather than just getting the belt within grabbing distance. AND, as mentioned, that belt of Frau Linkmeyer's WAS intended to withstand considerable stress, made from heavy leather, ending with a heavy ornate metal buckle. Yes, the buckle was on the FAR end of the life-line. Funny how that turned out.

"Ouch!" Carter winced. "Sorry about that, sir." (5) With a grimace, he offered over to his teammates in a much lower voice, "that really had to smart!"

"Yes, Andrew, I imagine it did. You 'AD to throw it with the buckle at THAT end?" Newkirk scolded, listening to the solid curses coming from the very wet man now hauling himself in their direction.

However, any inclination Hogan might have had to lambast Carter for slapping him upside the head, or the others for allowing it to happen, was quickly set aside in the flurry of women gathering around, all talking at the same time. (If he didn't know better, he'd have thought they were trying to protect Carter from his very justifiable wrath, but no, women who'd undergone a kidnapping by armed soldiers, witnessed extreme violence, then a daring rescue, their nerves were likely just shot, the poor dears! Rigggghhhht!)

Hogan tried to wring some of the water out of his jacket. Glancing over, he could see that Tiger was being wrapped in Hilda's suit jacket and fussed over by the women, the women, in turn, being fussed over by his men. HE, on the other hand, the one who was soaking wet, bruised from the fall, also with a raised red welt across the side of his head, was being pretty much ignored. That was just annoying.

Motioning to Olsen, who'd been way too close to Hilda, patting her shoulder in a far too comforting manner for someone who wasn't supposed to be recognized, he ordered in a low voice, "go get the car. We'll take Tiger and Hilda back to town, then you can come back for the others."

Olsen, who'd seen enough, heard enough to know that the original plan of no one recognizing any of them was a total loss by now, decided that was a good idea. At least, him going to get the car. He DID kind of miss seeing what happened in the meantime, but he figured the guys would fill him in later. 

{"And did I hear him right? I'LL come back for the others? What's he going to be . . . Oh, right, THAT'S what he's going to be doing!"} Olsen snorted to himself as he took off in the darkness.

Hogan approached the others, draping one arm over Tiger's shoulder, the other around Hilda. 

"Ladies, we'll keep this simple." And he laid out his plan in a calm, reassuring manner, totally unprepared for the rigid denial by the women. Even Tiger and Hilda seemed determined to put a spoke in his wheel for some reason, though it was Frau Linkmeyer who really laid down the law. 

"No, you will take ALL of us! If you expect us to stand around on a cold, dark road while you amuse yourself, you are quite mistaken!"

Well, Hogan hadn't really expected the Linkmeyer woman to go along with the idea without a lot of convincing, but that the glares he was getting included Tiger and Hilda, that kinda surprised him. He'd have thought they would have been flattered that he'd intended ferrying them back to town first. A little double dose of gratitude, he could go for that right about now.

"Now, ladies. My friends will remain with the rest of you, make sure you are safe. I'll send the car back for you as soon as possible, I promise," he assured them smoothly.

"Absolutely not! You will take all of us, now and at the same time! It is simply not acceptable otherwise. In fact, if you do not wish it to be that way, I can drive US back to town with one of your men, and send the car back for you and the others," Tiger said in a remarkably chilly voice. Or maybe it was simply that she was cold. Well, she should be. Lord knows HE was, cold and wet and anxious to get into something nice and warm and dry. Maybe, with a little luck, to get into something nice and warm and wet, even. Though that look in Tiger's eye, in Hilda's too, didn't seem as promising as you'd think, considering he'd just saved their lives.

Now his men started in on him. {"No matter HOW dumb it is for their voices to be heard!"} Well, LeBeau, fawning over the old bat in the fur coat, was obviously French, wasn't even trying to hide it, not that he could. Newkirk couldn't SOUND any more Cockney if his life depended on it, and how the pickpocket could stand to be dealing with Frau Linkmeyer so gently, so carefully affectionate, as if she was his cherished, if rather irritable and ill-tempered, aunt or something, Hogan couldn't imagine. The harridan was actually chuckling at the Englishman, patting him on his bandana-covered cheek like she WAS his aunt or something! She was even ordering him to "get those cuts taken care of promptly, young man! We can't having them getting infected." Weird!

As for Carter, he was fussing over the kid to beat the band. Well, if he had notions in that direction, Hogan hoped Carter had had himself galvanized, cause he was going to need it!! 

Olsen didn't take part, but probably only because he had headed back to collect the car. Whether that was self-sacrifice or self-defense was debatable. Olsen might be fairly quiet, but no one said he was stupid.

Finally, after the argument carried on long enough for Olsen to return with the car the Germans had left a few hundred yards up the hill, Hogan declared in frustration, "Fine!!! Is everyone so stubborn in this country?" (6), and threw up his hands and motioned everyone into the now waiting car. 

It was one tight squeeze, and Hogan didn't get nearly as much pleasure in that close accommodation as he had thought to earlier. Yes, there was some physical stimulation, and yes, he had physically responded, but it wasn't deliberate, just the jostling around of too many bodies in too tight a space. He wasn't even sure whose body parts had rubbed up against him, giving him that hard-on; he could only hope it was Tiger or Hilda! Even thinking it might have been one of the other women gave him the shudders.

Still, he had some gratification, when the women were handed out of the car at the edge of the busy street, at that whispered, barely overheard conversation. Well, how could a man NOT be pleased at the recognition he was given, even if he hadn't had a chance to make use of his reaction in the way he would have preferred! Even Frau Linkmeyer (shudder, once again) had been firmly declaring the obvious, and obviously the others had agreed entirely!

The men were all headed back to camp, and Hogan was preening, replaying that whispered conversation between the women. Yes, well, it WAS nice to have your attributes recognized and appreciated, even if he wasn't interested in using said attributes with any but two of those females.

Newkirk held back the smirk he wanted to let escape, substituting a pleasant if rather inane smile, one that unaccountably seemed to twitch at times. Carter and LeBeau noticed, perhaps Olsen as well, but no one said anything, not then. They didn't want to ruin that self-congratulatory glow the colonel had going. A happy Hogan hopefully would mean less yelling once they got back to camp. Well, except for Carter. That welt would be a reminder for some time, and Carter knew he'd be hearing about that.

Still, later, in the barracks, Hogan off schmoozing Klink out of a glass or two of schnapps, maybe a cigar as well, laying out some story about running into a door or such such fairy tale, LeBeau asked for clarification of something that was puzzling him.

"Bon, Pierre, so I know German imperfectly, I know that, know I do not always translate well. And even in France, such things are often regional to the point that even two people from the same country might not truly understand what is being said. Even so, did any of YOU get the impression that le colonel perhaps should not be as happy about that conversation that we overheard as he seems to be?"

That was all it took, and Newkirk totally lost it. It started with a snicker, then moved into a laugh that seemed never to stop, and finally only the wall he was leaning on kept him upright. Finally he stood straighter, wiped the resulting tears of laughter from his eyes and caught his breath and answered the increasingly bewildered Frenchman.

"Right you are, Louie, bloody right you are! Still, don't think we need to be telling Colonel 'ogan, right?? 'E wants to think they were all atwitter about 'im, 'ow impressed, let's just let 'im, shall we? Not likely to make 'im all that 'appy thinking otherwise!"

Carter nodded energetically, "yeah, he probably wouldn't be very happy about it. Funny, you know, how things can sound so much alike and mean something so different. But some things, even if we ARE in a different country, seems like they're more alike than you'd think. 'Er hat einen groBen Schwanz' versus 'er ist ein groBer Schwanz', I mean. At least that's what it sounded like to me. Just like back home, saying someone HAS a big dick doesn't SOUND all that much different than saying somebody IS a big dick, but boy!!! And that's really kinda the same thing, what HE thought they were saying and what they really were, on account of the way he slighted the girl and the old lady and Frau Linkmeyer just cause he wanted to cuddle up with Hilda and Tiger! No, if you ask me, the general's sister wasn't handing out any compliments, that's for sure! And she wasn't getting any arguments, either!"

And Kinch, once he stopped laughing, agreed - it probably wouldn't do anyone any good at all for any of them to tell Hogan about that little misunderstanding of his. Though, a little part of him (truly 'little', for Kinch really was a really good guy, but even such really GOOD people still had their momentary lapses, their failings) would have given a lot for Hogan to realize the level of contempt the women had obviously felt, Tiger and Hilda included. 

As for LeBeau, that the 'old bat' was his beloved Marya in heavy disguise? That was something it was TRULY best Colonel Hogan never knew! Actually, it was probably best if NO ONE knew!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts Used:  
> 1\. The nearest damsel in distress comes first.  
> 2\. Blimey, that was a quick ten seconds.  
> 3\. He's fallen in the water.  
> 4\. Missed it by that much.  
> 5\. Sorry about that, (name)  
> 6\. Is everyone so stubborn in this country?
> 
> References: Stories - 'Hogan and The Three Sisters', 'Each In Their Own Way'


End file.
